


Royal Pride

by devdevlin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 08:49:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15045332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devdevlin/pseuds/devdevlin
Summary: One-shot drabble for a Tumblr Prompt: Tomione: “When the Grangers are overthrown, their princess needs the help of Lord Voldemort’s army.”For the lovely stille-und-regen





	Royal Pride

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I know little about royal customs irl so I apologise profusely for writing out of my ass

“Your Highness,” Lord Potter greeted slightly out of breath as he lowered his head in a bow.

“Yes?”

“Is your father able?”

“No,” she said sadly, glancing back toward the bedroom where the ill King lay. “Any matters you have for the King may be directed to me.”

With an unsure swallow, her father’s most trusted advisor nodded. “Very well. It’s Hogwarts. Grindelwald’s forces have breached the grounds. It looks like we are to lose the castle.”

She glanced away, withholding her gasp.

“What can we do?”

“Our numbers are at an all time low. The casualties of Knockturn were far too great. We can’t take any more of the King’s Guard without leaving Hogsmeade itself vulnerable,” he explained, each of his words increasing her sense of dread. “The armies from France aren’t due to arrive for another week, by which time we will surely lose Hogwarts, and most certainly the lake along with it.”

“And losing the lake means the shipping of our supplies will be halted,” she concluded for him, letting out the long breath she was holding.

“That’s correct.”

She glanced back toward the door of the bedroom longingly, cursing fate for inflicting her father with such an illness at such an awful time.

“I fear the only option left…”

Her head snapped back toward Harry as he trailed off. “What is it?”

He shifted uncomfortably.

“Well… it’s just… there is always the possibility of asking-”

“No,” she said at once.

“Your Highness-”

“I _won’t_.”

“You know I wouldn’t encourage it if there were another option.”

“No,” she repeated stubbornly. “There is no situation that could ever warrant such a thing. To do so would go against every fibre of my being, and I cannot-”

“Your Highness!”

Their heads turned to watch the newest intruder dash toward them from the far end of the corridor, his armour clanging with each long step.

“Captain Weasley,” she addressed.

He bowed swiftly, wasting no time to straighten. “Forgive me, Your Highness, My Lord. I come with bad news, I’m afraid. I’ve received word from my eldest brother. We’ve just lost Ottery St. Catchpole.

 

* * *

 

 

If there was _one_ person that Princess Hermione Granger utterly _detested_ , it was the Duke of Hangleton. Under normal circumstances, she always chose to think the best of people and was a firm believer that there was good in _everybody_ , no matter how rough they may seem around the edges. That was; everybody, except for the Duke of Hangleton. He was insincere, cocky, self-righteous, and if she were being completely honest, she was convinced he was a little bit sadistic.

She had, _unfortunately_ , known the Duke for as long as she could remember. Her earliest memory of their acquaintanceship was from when she was five, and had been out in the gardens of Black Manor. She’d been watching a small squirrel she’d found in a tree when the older boy had rudely interrupted by throwing a sizeable stone at it. He hadn’t missed, successfully hitting the poor thing in the back. It had hobbled away very quickly, and when she began to cry and screech about telling her mother what he had done, he’d pulled her hair and refused to stop unless she swore secrecy. The way he’d threatened her would be forever etched in her memory, and although it was petty and she knew it, she still hadn’t forgiven him for it.

That initial childhood trauma had just been the _start_ of it. During their families get-togethers in her youth, he’d called her names, thrown mud at her, intentionally left her out in the gardens on her own when she hadn’t known the way back, and stolen or ruined so many of her things that she’d lost count. He’d _tormented_ her, for no other reason than wanting to. By the time she reached an age where it became socially unacceptable for her to be alone in male company, she found herself honestly relieved. Never again would she need to be alone with her tormentor.

She was further blessed a few weeks after her twelfth birthday, when her parents had fallen out with his father, the late Lord Riddle. The whole ordeal brought her the greatest of joys; no longer did she so much as have to see his face around the castle. In fact, she hadn’t even seen him a single time since then, and that had been nine years ago.

And so, it was with a deep scowl that Hermione accepted that she had no other choice than to request the assistance of Lord Voldemort’s army. Up until now, Hangleton had declared neutrality on war, refusing to side with neither Grindelwald, nor the reigning Monarchy. This meant that his army was now the largest intact force native to Britain remaining, and conveniently, their last hope.

Two days after Harry had broken the news to her, Hermione journeyed through the long corridor of the Riddle Manor with long, drawn out footsteps, delaying what would surely be an uncomfortable meeting. She noted that the decor was exactly as she remembered from her childhood, still just as unwelcoming and the halls just as drafty.

Her tall escort who had been introduced as Sir Malfoy held the large doors open for her and her two following guards, bowing as she passed  him into the meeting room.

"Her Royal Highness, Princess of Hogsmeade, My Lord.”

The Duke sat, seeming more regal than her own father at the far end of the hall, wine goblet in hand. The room was dimly lit, partially due to the poor weather outside and partially due to the small amount of candles spread around the room. She was sure he had done it on purpose, choosing to keep the room dark to maintain the air of mystery.

He stood at her introduction, though she was only able to make out his tall silhouette from that distance. He wasted no time in approaching, crossing the carpet in long strides and reaching out for her hand.

“It has been much too long,” he said as he brought her hand up to his lips, his voice rougher than she remembered it being. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Your letter stated some urgency,” he drawled as he released her hand at last.

She pulled it back quickly. Though his lips had only touched her glove, the heat of the contact radiated through the fabric to her skin.

It was only now that he was up close that she was able to see the differences between the man before her from the teenager of her memory. Adulthood suited him, his jawline and sharp features seeming much more pronounced. He had been gifted with broad shoulders and height that surpassed even Captain Weasley’s, along with eyes that had grown even colder over the years.

“We come to you having found ourselves in dire circumstances, indeed,” she started, clearing her throat in an attempt to muster the confidence her parents had taught her all her life. There was no need to be nervous, she told herself. She was a Princess, and he but a Duke. She had no reason to be wary of a lower ranking noble, regardless of how attractive they may have been. “Your Lordship knows we would not intrude upon your hospitality if there were any other option.”

“No?” He asked with a dark eyebrow curving upward as he stepped back to retake his seat. “Do the Grangers consider themselves above such a thing?”

“Of course not,” she said, backtracking quickly. “I simply meant that we would not wish to inconvenience you in such a way unless we had no other choice.”

“Hmm,” he sounded, leaning lazily on his armrest. “And just what is it that you have travelled all this way to ask of me, _Princess?_ ”

She breathed deeply, her lips thinning at the way he’d pronounced her title as if he were mocking her.

“I have come to request the assistance of your army, Lord Voldemort,” she said stiffly. “Hogsmeade has suffered not one, but two monumental defeats in the last two days and we now find ourselves at risk of losing the war entirely.”

“And His Royal Majesty the King has sent _you_ to ask me? Not he, himself?”

Her fingernails dug painfully into her palms.

“My father is much too unwell to leave the castle at present.”

“The Queen?”

“She will not leave his side.”

“Hmm.”

She took another long breath, biting her tongue to keep her irritation in check.

“What you’re asking of me is no small favour,” he stated after an extended silence.

“I understand, Lord Voldemort, but we-”

“Leave us, Sir Malfoy,” he said, glancing to her escort. “You, too,” he added to her own guards.

They sent her questioning glances, and although there was nothing she wanted less than to be alone with the man before her, she nodded toward them, knowing the importance of this meeting.

Once the sound of the large doors closing echoed through the throne room, the Duke pushed himself up from where he sat, slowly stepping back toward her.

“I will help you, Your Highness.”

Her chest constricted at his words, the relief washing over her so strongly that she found herself momentarily speechless.

“On one condition.”

“One… yes, of course,” she said quickly, still recovering from her surprise. “Anything.”

“I would like your hand in marriage.”

The surprise she had felt moments earlier was nothing to what his words instilled within her.

“ _M-marriage?_ ”

“Yes.”

“But…” she began slowly, eyes widening by the second as she desperately thought for any reason to refuse him. “You already hold Dukeship. There could be nothing more for you to gain.”

“Do you consider yourself worthless?”

“I-no, that was not my intent-”

“Then, if His Royal Majesty will allow it, that is my condition.”

“But… surely I couldn’t be of much worth to you. I am the next in line to the throne, regardless of my marital status. Any… _union_ between us would not make you King.”

“I do not wish to be King.”

“But… but then…”

“Come now, we used to have such _fun_ together,” he said, fire catching flame in his eyes. “Don’t you remember? Is it so strange to think that I wish to know the woman you’ve become?”

“I am not the push over I once was, Tom,” she warned, stepping back toward the doors her guards had exited through as she recognised the malicious glint in his eyes, even after all these years. “No longer can you threaten me.”

He smiled at her words, as if they _amused_ him.

“I am in need of a wife,” he said simply. “I need an heir. I have not heard of any betrothal on your part, surely the time that you need a husband is fast approaching. I cannot think of a woman who would make a more impressive wife than a Queen.”

“You wish to make a trophy of me?!” She questioned, both offended and appalled by the notion of him fathering her children.

“I want only the best.”

She scoffed. “No. I will not accept.”

“Such a union between Hogsmeade and Hangleton would secure both regions long into the foreseeable future,” he continued. “You know this. And I would hazard a guess that it was the longstanding wish of our parents before the disagreement of our fathers.”

“No,” she repeated, shaking her head stubbornly. “Never.”

He watched her for a moment, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth before he shrugged.

“Suit yourself,” he eventually said nonchalantly. “Best of luck finding yourself another army, then. Though I daresay it will be much easier ruling a kingdom when there are no subjects left to rule.”

His words, cold and uncaring, triggered a response in her that she could not contain.

“How _dare_ you?!” She yelled, switching their roles as she advanced on him, pointing a finger toward his chest. “How dare you even suggest such a thing!”

“I am simply stating the facts, Your Highness,” he said, his tone matching hers. “By refusing me, you are choosing to be selfish over the wellbeing of your people. You are choosing to lose this war.”

“I would _never-_ ” she began before she stopped herself at his hypocrisy. “Your refusal to help me - to help your _people_ \- without the promise of marriage is appalling! And you dare to suggest that _I_ am the selfish one?!”

His smile widened as she closed in, almost close enough for her extended finger to touch his chest. “It is not I who needs the monarchy to win this war. I stand just as well off if Grindelwald was to reign.”

“You awful, _treacherous-_ ”

“You have a clear solution in front of you,” he interrupted, his tone lowering as he stepped up to her to grasp her wrist and pull her closer. “You said it yourself; there is no other option. I will be more than happy to help you. Just… say… _yes._ ”

The way he breathed the word ‘yes’, rough and low, heated the air, the pit of her stomach dropping with something that wasn’t fear, but unexpectedly… _anticipation._

“If you care so passionately about your people,” he continued in the same low, rough tone, “ _just say yes._ ”

“I will never say yes to you,” she managed in a coarse whisper, the breaking emotion between her words giving him the unspoken affirmative answer he wanted.

The corner of his mouth turned upward.

“I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

**Author's Note:**

> I got quite carried away with this drabble, and so I posted it in my excitement. Very sorry for the (probably) many typos!


End file.
